


Taking Orders

by srmarybadass



Category: A-Team (2010)
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-25
Updated: 2012-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-30 02:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmarybadass/pseuds/srmarybadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Hannibal/Murdock, BDSM, "sometimes Hannibal doesn't want to be the boss".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Orders

Another long day, another mission, another near-death experience, another aching trigger finger, and another headache.

Hannibal flopped down onto his bed and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes until he saw sparks. It only distracted him for a moment, but then the he came right back to his tense muscles and the remnants of adrenaline running through his veins. He thought, briefly, about going out to a bar and picking up some stranger to get rid of the tension, but that would mean getting up, going out, being all charming and seductive...and he was sick of having to all the work, all the time.

He was interrupted from that particular train of thought by a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, knowing it had to be one of his team.

It was Murdock.

"You look stressed," he said by way of greeting.

Hannibal shrugged. "Just the usual. Being in charge all the time has a way of winding you up."

"Mmmhmm. I see," Murdock nodded sagely, striding towards the bed. Hannibal could feel himself tensing up even more as the pilot got closer. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," Hannibal said hoarsely. "But I appreci-"

"Well, that's too bad," Murdock continued. "Because I'm not in the mood to take no for an answer." Having reached Hannibal, who was sitting up ramrod-straight, he proceeded to straddle him.

"Murdock, what are you doing?" Hannibal whispered, although he had a very good idea of where this was going, and certain parts of his anatomy liked it very, very much.

"You know, Colonel, you'd think that a man of your intellect would be able to figure it out," Murdock replied, kneading the the muscles of Hannibal's shoulder slightly. "I'm helping you relieve some of this tension." He ran his hands down Hannibal's chest. "And this tension." His hands went lower.

"Captain, this is totally out of line!" Hannibal said gruffly, struggling to control himself as Murdock squeezed his hard-on through his jeans.

"Hannibal, with all due respect, shut up." With that, Murdock pulled a roll of duct tape out of his jacket pocket, ripped off a strip, and plastered it over Hannibal's mouth. As a knee-jerk reaction, Hannibal swung his hands up at Murdock, but the pilot caught them effortlessly.

"Now, Hannibal, that's just naughty," he said, his lilting southern accent making him sound absolutely, preposterously offended. "I dare say you're going to have to be punished for that. Now, let's try this again. Take your shirt off."

Hannibal did, slowly, looking Murdock in the eye the entire time. The two sat there for a moment, Murdock grinning with an edge, Hannibal quivering slightly with anticipation. Murdock pushed him back onto the bed and trailed his hands down his chest, following with his lips, slithering down until his chin was resting on the waistband of Hannibal's pants, which were noticeably quite tight.

"For me?" Murdock smiled cheekily, looking up at Hannibal, who glared back. "You're so thoughtful." He slithered back up, making sure to rub up against every inch of Hannibal's body along the way. "Now, undress yourself, get on your hands and knees, and we'll see what we can do about it."

Murdock watched with predatory eyes as Hannibal obeyed his instructions to the letter.

Hannibal waited, shaking all over, tenser than ever and trying to gain his bearings through a haze of lust, silently begging for Murdock to touch him. He heard a few rustles and saw Murdock hanging his jacket on the bedpost -- god only knew why -- before feeling two strong, capable hands smooth down his back, undoing some of the tension that had gathered there. Hannibal's eyes fluttered shut, but jerked wide open when he felt a slick finger probing at his entrance.

"Breathe, Hannibal," Murdock ordered, and Hannibal did, finding himself relaxing slightly, even as the pilot's capable fingers stretched him open. 

"That should do it," Murdock pronounced after a few minutes. "Grab the headboard, and don't let go."

Hannibal did, and as soon as his shaking hands had wrapped around it, Murdock pushed into him, slowly, stretching him, filling him. Hannibal groaned, muffled through the tape, and he could practically hear Murdock grinning like a cat. He pulled back, waited a moment, and used his hips to slam himself into Hannibal so hard the bed shook. 

"Yeah, that's the stuff," he pronounced, repeating the maneuver. Hannibal's hands slackened their grip on the headboard, and he was so desperate to get some friction on his aching cock that he removed one hand with the intention of taking care of himself, but Murdock moved like lightning and caught it.

"Ah-ah-ah," he tutted. "You come on my dick, or you don't come at all." He reached over to his jacket and pulled out a shining pair of handcuffs. "Don't fight," he said, locking Hannibal's hands into them. "Now, keep your damn hands on the headboard."

This time, metal chafing against his wrists, Hannibal obeyed, and Murdock resumed his thrusts, angling himself expertly so that he hit the spot inside Hannibal that made him see sparks each time. Hannibal's breathing became more stuttered, and he gripped the bed tighter, the tension building to breaking point in his body. He found himself whimpering, begging for release. Clearly, Murdock heard it, because he reached up and grabbed the edge of the tape.

"Come for me," he whispered into Hannibal's ear, and ripped the tape off in one motion. With a roar of pleasure sharpened by pain, Hannibal did exactly as Murdock ordered, feeling all the tension leave his body. Murdock followed a moment later, resting his forehead on Hannibal's back. After a minute of heavy breathing, he fished the key out of his jacket pocket and unlocked Hannibal, letting his commander flop to the bed.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Murdock asked, sounding unsure and more like himself.

"No," Hannibal managed to gasp. "Well, a little, but I needed it."

"You sure did," Murdock agreed, tucking himself under Hannibal's arm and tangling their legs together.

"You know," Hannibal said, already feeling himself drifting off to sleep, "I get stressed out an awful lot. It's hard work, being the boss."

"Well, I'll just have to make myself help you out," Murdock replied, mumbling the words into Hannibal's skin.

Before he could formulate a reply, Hannibal was asleep, warm and relaxed.


End file.
